Broken Mirror
by RiddleMeThis17
Summary: The first time it happens, it hurts him. The second time it happens, it hurts him. By the third time, he's given up, pushing aside his guilt for something that would haunt him later. So he punishes himself, because there is no one else to do it for him. Warning, self-harm and Dark!Eleven. Post-Cold Blood to The Big Bang.


**For a birthday gift, this was rather dark. Sorry, Claude!**

**So yeah, the prompt was an Amy/Eleven angst fan fiction, which definitely did not meet the qualifications, but I tried. **

**I am well-aware that I for used more on the description than anything emotional or mental, and I really don't know what to do. **

Her lips, warmer than his own, close over his, burning with love and passion and trust.

He resists the urge to push her off. To shout that it was all wrong. To shake her and show her the ring that she had mistakenly believed to be his gift to her. To tell her that she was engaged to a man who loved her, who wasn't him.

But like every other time, he lets her. And like every other time, he lets her take it further. He always regrets it, but he never denies that he enjoys it.

When she's fallen asleep in exhaustion, he looks up at the ceiling of what has become their room. He thinks of disappointment and anger. He looks down to his arms, which look relatively bare and free of any blemishes or marks. He reminds himself to break the mirror again, as he has every time they act more than friends.

A shard breaks the clean skin, blood slipping through. He no longer feels the pain. The pain of ruining her life without her even knowing punches him more.

Another shard joins the first.

Blood the colour of sunsets drip to the ground.

He smiles at his reflection. His reflection is how he feels on the inside. Broken and shattered, with some pieces still connected, but the slightest pressure could split them apart.

He breaks off a particularly large and sharp piece. He turns his arm over, and holds the piece like a pencil.

The tip presses into his skin, a bead of blood gathering at the intrusion. It cuts through his skin. A sharp line. He curves the top towards the middle of the line. Skin opens swiftly to a diagonal.

Blood covers the letter.

The ground beneath him shakes.

He moves on to the next patch of skin.

A quick circle. Then a repeat of the first character.

She may have forgotten, but he will never forget.

The day dawns. He smiles down to the crooked words on his arms and legs. Blood splashes around his feet, staining his feet red. He jumps in the puddle of his own blood, a sense of amusement rising in himself.

He contemplates leaving the shards in, covering them with a simple perception filter. But he decides otherwise and pulls them out, not even flinching at the sharp sting.

Almost as if curious, he presses a bloody finger into the cuts, letting out a small groan at the sensations hitting his brain.

The ground trembles in warning.

He steps away from the mirror, walking into a pristine white room. A shower head is attached to the wall. Several small holes in the floor prove that it's a rather odd looking shower.

He pulls off his clothes, marvelling at their dampness and discoloured fabrics.

He steps into the shower, water cascading onto him, washing away the fluid.

Another sleepless night.

And then he finds him again. She finds him.

And she's disappointed in him.

"Don't try to lie to me," she says, grabbing his arm and pushing his sleeve up. Before he can stop her, she rips off the brace. The filter drops, exposing the carved words and half-healed scars.

RORY

WILLIAMS

MURDERER

DO

NOT

FORGET

GENOCIDE

AMELIA

GONE

GALLIFREY

DEAD

RIVER

SAVED

EVERYBODY

LIVES

DOCTOR

THE

MAN

WHO

MAKES

PEOPLE

BETTER

Amongst those words, odd circles wrap around his wrists.

They are too shocked to reprimand or pity him. He sends them a smile he'd long been accustomed to making.

"I'm alright." He says.

'Is alright a sort of Time Lord code for not alright?'

He gets shot by the Dalek. And they can't ask any questions because he's running to the Pandorica.

As she knocks on the TARDIS door, he reapplies the perception filter and steps out, grabbing her hand and forcing her to forget.

Forget. Forget. Forget.

Forget every night she's spent with him. Every night she did not spend with her fiancé. Everything she did that she should not have done had her fiancé been there.

He easily does the same for him, and they do not notice anything.

He meets her outside, but she's prepared.

"You couldn't if you wanted." She says, staying a good distance away from him. "How long will you pretend?"

He does not answer.

**Yeah, I'm terrible at this, aren't I?**

**[Upon re-reading this, and after thoroughly bashing my head against a wall, I can only say that I should _not_ be allowed to write fan fiction at three in the morning.]  
**

**~RiddleMeThis-regrets-everything**


End file.
